catalysis
by CassandraHolly
Summary: This is the story of The Marauders- the funny one, the handsome one, the smart one, the sweet one. And this is the story of The Marauders- the alcoholic one, the eating-disordered one, the bipolar one, the depressed one.' tw, going to contain some pretty dark stuff.
1. Chapter 1

_'If I could I would treat you myself, sink through your skin to your blood cells, remove whatever makes you hurt; but I am too weak to be your cure.'_

* * *

There's something strangely inviting about self- destruction.

It calls out, in a voice made of velvet, to the kids who have nobody else to listen to. The scared, the angry, the lonely, the misunderstood. The ones who talk too fast, laugh too loud, fall further than anybody else because they're usually higher than everybody else.

It's not just self- destruction that they have in common, though. They orbit towards one another, as if there's some kind of gravitational force based on madness that pushes them together. There's an unspoken understanding between the ones with the Crazy in their heads- don't talk about it, don't push me on it, don't mention it, don't ask why there's blood on my shirt/vomit in my hair/tears in my eyes/razors in my bag because _I will flip out_- and it makes it easier to be with other people when they pretend not to notice.

It's rare to find somebody with a scary-high degree of the Crazy. That's why it's so strange that there was, at one point, four of them in attendance at Hogwarts. It might have been fate, or unseen magic, or just dumb luck that they ended up in the same dormitory, as well as the same classes. Whatever the reason, there they were: four boys who listened to the velvet voice and were, by the age of sixteen, bringing new meanings to the over-used phrase 'fucked up'.

This is the story of The Marauders- the funny one, the handsome one, the smart one, the happy one.

And this is the story of The Marauders- the alcoholic one, the eating-disordered one, the bipolar one, the depressed one.

This is the story of how the velvet voice called, the silken hand beckoned, the rabbit hole opened, and they all fell down, one by one.


	2. Chapter 2

thankyou to everybody who reviewed 3

* * *

_Anorexia with a Binge-Purge Subtype: A person who fits the diagnostic criteria of anorexia nervosa but displays symptoms of bulimia nervosa (uncontrollable eating; 'purging' via vomiting, laxative abuse or excessive exercise)._

* * *

You can get a lot done when you don't sleep.

People make insomnia out to be a curse, but to Sirius, it's a blessing in disguise. Imagine how much work you can do in the eight hours when everybody else is unconscious, wired to the gills on caffeine and the adrenaline that comes with not- eating.

_But they don't mention that._

They don't talk about Sirius' empty plate, or the boxes of junk food hidden in his trunk for the days when everything gets too much. They skip over what isn't there- the gap between his thighs, the concave hollow of his stomach, the air in front of his cheekbones- and, in return, he keeps his mouth closed about them.

But insomnia's perks only stretch as far as having something to do when you can't sleep. Being stuck with nothing but your thoughts for eight hours is bad enough; having those thoughts attack every part of your esteem is even worse. The first night back at Hogwarts, when there's no homework or revision to be done and everybody else is passed out, is by far the lonliest night of the year.

It's 2am.

Sirius digs around in James' trunk for a second. He pulls out the invisibility cloak, and as he does, something makes a small _clunk _noise against the wooden case. Sirius peers down, not sure he should be nosing around, and regrets it. He recognises the object immediately- the glass of the neck, the black label with the 'Jack' just visible- and closes the trunk with a snap. Standing up, Sirius looks down at James for a moment. He considers waking him up, but knows that James' sleeping isn't just exhaustion- induced.

Never wake a sleeping dragon, especially if he's only sleeping as an aftereffect of one- too- many shots.

Sirius closes the dormitory door behind him, wrapping the cloak around his shoulders and setting off for a few hours of isolation.

* * *

"Peter. Wake up."

It's five hours later- 7:00am- and Sirius has waited long enough. The bad thoughts are swarming in. He needs to hear other voices, his friends' voices. He starts with Peter, because Peter is predictable in the mornings. "Peter. Peter, you need to wake up, time to get ready."

Peter opens his eyes and pulls himself up with a groan. His eyes opens, and there- _right there_- Sirius glimpses, just for a second, the same realisation that flashes across James and Remus' faces when they wake up everyday.

_Fuck it, I'm still here._

Then Peter spots Sirius and gives a toothy grin. "Mornin'."

"Morning. Get in the shower before I wake the others, you know what they're like."

"Yeah. Thanks." Peter gives Sirius a grateful smile and stumbles off to the bathroom, yawning loudly.

Sirius turns and considers for a moment. James or Remus next?

Remus.

"Remus? Um, Remus, time to-"

Remus' eyes flash open before Sirius can finish, and he's up, on his feet, and Sirius is dizzy for him. "Is Peter in the shower? Damnit. He takes bloody ages. Do you know what's for breakfast? Smells like eggs, I love eggs! You don't, do you. Oh well, whatever, we can't all like eggs." Remus spouts this off in under three seconds, and Sirius just stares at him.

"Come on, Pads, catch up! It's gonna be an excellent day, excellent year! Sixth years- best year, don't you agree?"

"Um, I don't know," Sirius says carefully. "We've only been in it for, like, half a day."

Remus laughs loudly, pats Sirius' shoulder, and begins to cram enough books to fill a library in his satchel. "Gonna wake James?" he calls over his shoulder. Sirius turns and pads over to James' bed, where his friend is spread-eagled on top of his covers. Sirius taps James' shirtless shoulder.

"James. Oi, Prongs. Get up. Toss- face. Wank- stain. Asshat. Move it."

It takes a long time for James to open his eyes. Eventually, he's sat on his bed, head in his hands, muttering about ibuprofen and 'never again'.

He does this every morning, has done since the age of 13.

Sirius places a glass of water and three ibuprofen next to him and begins to walk around the dormitory. Past Peter, who's towel- drying his hair on his bed. Past Remus' bed, which is now meticulously neat and empty- Remus is in the shower. Past James, who's swallowing the last pill and rolling his neck. Past his own bed, which looks exactly the same as it did last night.

Past Peter, who's stopped moving and is staring down at his red arms- results of a shower turned way too hot.

Past Remus, who is striding out of the bathroom, eyes too bright for somebody who was having trouble even _talking_ just last night.

Past James, who's returning something to his trunk with a calmer expression on his face, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, placing a small flask in his school bag.

Past his own bed, which looks exactly the same as it did last night.

* * *

Lily Evans looks up from her toast as the Hall goes quiet. Her eyes find the cause for the lull in conversation; they're standing by the door. Of course- who else would it be?

They walk in time with each other, falling back and stepping ahead in a rotation as familiar as the sunset. Everybody knows this, knows _them_. They never alter, never change. Funny, sarcastic James; always smirking, always taking the piss, always ready to stir up trouble. Impossibly attractive Sirius; his grey eyes never still, his creamy- white skin glowing under every light, his dark hair falling over his sculpted face. Intelligent, reliable Remus; a calming presence that keeps the others in line, loyal and steady. Optimistic, grinning Peter; the one with the library of smiles, laughs and cheers at his summon, standing in wait to brighten the mood.

Lily thinks they're to good to be true. She doesn't believe in perfection, and it's hard to believe that all four of them are quite that one-dimensional.

They sit down next to her, and she doesn't complain; they interest her, much as it irritates her to admit it.

"Alright, Evans?" James' lips are curled into something more than a smirk but less than a smile. Lily gazes at him for a second in silence before rolling her eyes.

"Sod off, Potter." In Lily's experience, the more well- put together a person is, the further the shrapnel flies when they break down.

They interest her.

That doesn't mean she's ready to risk her own sanity just to get involved with them, and then have them drag her down with her. No, they don't interest her enough for that.

* * *

It's the same routine, same reaction. They walk in, everybody turns to stare. Hundreds of eyes pick them apart- is that a _spot _on Peter's forehead? Are those _bags _under Sirius' eyes?- and then everybody turns back, not wanting to be caught staring. They've established themselves as _the _people to know, and now Sirius wants to sit down and never be looked at again.

Simultaneously, he wants to run away and never be looked at again.

Meal times shit him up.

He's next to James, across from Peter, diagonal to Remus. Lily is on Remus' other side, and James flashes her his trademark grin.

"Alright, Evans?"

She hesitates, just slightly, and then, like clockwork: "Sod off, Potter." Eye roll. She returns her attention to the newspaper in front of her, and James reaches for the coffee. "So I was thinking," he began.

"You're _joking_." Remus grins as James makes a face.

"_Anyway_, I was thinking. We're sixth years now, get extended hours in Hogsmeade. I got a mate back home who'll get us fake Ids for twenty five galleons each." his eyes move to Remus as he pours out two cups of coffee. "I can pay any loose ends."

Remus considers, and then grins. "Nice." Peter nods enthusiastically, while Sirius keeps his eyes trained on the cup of coffee James is pouring. James looks at him.

"Don't get too excited, Sirius. Jesus."

"'Excitement' isn't in my mood range until after the caffeine fix, you _know _that."

James grins and waves his wand at Sirius' cup. The coffee bubbles and sloshes as it morphs from a regular filter to a triple-shot espresso. Sirius snatches it and takes a gulp, grinning appreciatively at James. He lowers his cup, then, and watches from under his eyelashes as they help themselves to food.

Peter is loading his plate with piles of greasy bacon, crunchy toast, fatty eggs. Remus is smiling and waving at people he hasn't seen in a while as he spoons cereal into his mouth. James is gulping down something from a pumpkin juice goblet. Sirius' own cup of coffee is held in both hands, warming them up and calming him down.

Peter is stuffing his face because it means he doesn't have to take part in the conversation.

Remus is flashing teeth and waggling eyebrows at people he barely ever notices because this year, he's vowed, is going to be the year when he's friends with _everybody_- it'll be _fantastic_.

James is sliding the flask back into his bag as he finishes off whatever it was in his goblet (which definitely was _not _pumpkin juice), glancing around discreetly.

Sirius is holding on to his coffee as if it's his anchor to the room- and it is; the contents of the cup is what he's going to be running on until dinner.

* * *

Lily waits until they're gone before closing her newspaper. The Hall is still busy, but the Marauders have made an exit just as noticeable as their entry- James jumped on Remus' back, Peter and Sirius moonwalking before collapsing in raucous laughter. Lily gazes after them, eyes narrowed.

Curiosity killed the cat, but it was killing her, too.

She stood up and followed them down to Potions.


	3. Chapter 3

The Marauders are an atom.

They bounce off each other, spinning and veering, curving and careening. Sirius is the nucleus- negative charge, stuck in one place, watching as the others connect and move, and he can't keep up. Remus is the proton- positive charge, holding Sirius on his feet, trying to keep an eye on James while simultaneously not giving a shit about what any of the others do; he has his own path to follow. James is the electron- he's blurring around them at the speed of light, an orbit none of them understand- don't particularly want to, in all honesty- and the momentum wont let him stop.  
Peter is the electric shell that holds it all together.  
He can't keep it up for much longer.

* * *

It's funny how people leave you alone if you just flash them a smile. Peter has flashed a lot of smiles in his time. His face gets so bright that it leaves spots in everyone's vision, and then he turns away and it eclipses.  
Peter knows that it's his duty to keep them together. It used to be James'- he was the one that brought them together in the first place, after all- but then James answered to the sweet call of the bottle. Sirius was second in command, but a leader needs to be substantial enough to follow, and chasing Sirius is like chasing a shadow on a moonless night. Remus kept it up for a while, and then he changed again, flipped to the dark side, and left Peter to pick up the pieces. Now, James is slippery with cheap spirits, Sirius is barely there and Remus is all over the place. Holding them is like trying to catch rain.

* * *

Peter comes back down to Earth with a bang- literally. The leather-bound book that he had previously been holding is now on the floor at his feet. 36 pairs of eyes turn to stare as 798 pages of Advanced Potion Making begin to soak up the moisture from the dungeon floor.  
Peter sees, out of the corner of his eye, a Slytherin by the name of Drew Pudridge opening his mouth, ready to shoot a taunt into Peter's already damaged self- esteem.  
What he doesn't see is James. He feels him, though. Feels his presence appearing behind him, smells the scent of his intoxicating cologne, waits for him to say something.  
"Take a picture, pixie-dick," comes the smooth voice, "It'll last longer. Or did your camera run away from you, as well as your mother? Diddums."  
Drew closes his mouth.  
The noise level rises again. Peter bends to pick up the book, but it's being held out to him by a small, fair-skinned hand. The owner of said hand is smiling apprehensively. Lily Evans.  
"Thanks," Peter mutters. Out of habit, he bares his teeth in a grin. Lily's green eyes narrow, and something flickers in her face. Peter freezes. It's almost as if she can see right in to his head.  
Then her smile is back. "You're welcome."  
Peter watches as she moves back to her cauldron. After a moment, he turns to his own.  
James is back at his side of the table, opposite Peter. His eyes are gleaming; it's first lesson and he already wants a distraction, an event, a fight. Sirius is next to him, chopping up pumpkin seeds. Remus is muttering instructions from the board to himself as he sorts through his ingredients.  
James wants a fight because a fight is what Jack Daniels wants.  
Sirius is taking a lot more interest in those edible ingredients than is considered normal.  
Remus is talking so fast his lips are blurring.  
Peter turns away and wonders if Lily Evans saw anything odd when she looked at him, like he does when he looks at them.

* * *

Potions slips past slowly; time flies when you're having fun. Peter agrees wholeheartedly with the saying- it certainly explains why every day feels like a lifetime.

They pull the first prank of the year at lunch. Of course, it has to be in front of the whole school, so that everybody knows who's really in charge here. Of course.

Peter hates the attention, but James craves it. Remus doesn't mind it, as long as it's not near That Time of the Month. Peter can never tell if Sirius likes to be noticed or not. Some days, a teacher or a student will pay him a compliment, and his entire being lights up as if a flame is being lit inside his birdy- hollow bone cage. Some days, a teacher or student will pay him a compliment, and his entire being fades and darkens as if an already-fragile flame has been snuffed out.

It's not a complicated prank, but it's effective. A few hexes here, a few charms there, and the floating pumpkins are screaming in high-pitched voices like whistling kettles before vomiting seeds everywhere. Students shriek and laugh as the four of them sit in there charmed little bubble, protected from both the seeds and any lack of attention. James is in his element. Sirius is in hysterics. McGonagall is in despair. It is the first day of sixth year, and Peter is exhausted.


End file.
